


Sit there in your heartache

by outintheworld



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Hand Jobs, I'm Bad At Tagging, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outintheworld/pseuds/outintheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>For months it worked, the reminder of all he cannot lose just a phone call away, but two weeks ago the burning loneliness scorched temporarily the memory of blue eyes to lure him to green ones instead.</em><br/> </p><p> <br/>(or the one where one night of weakness with Harry eventually leads Zayn to a difficult decision)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is just something I had in mind of writing a long time ago, but never actually had the courage to do so. I want to thank my friends Sam, Adriana and Alex from pushing me to write and post it, without them I don't think this would have ever seen the light of day. This is my first work ever and English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if its sucks. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction and none of this ever really happened...that I know of.
> 
> The tittle is from the song "When You Were Young" by The Killers

He hates confrontation, he really does. Hates how something stupid can get blown out of proportion and how a single conversation can easily fuck everything up. That’s why he now keeps walking even though Harry’s still talking to him.

“Can you just wait a second and hear me out?”

“Harry, drop it!” he says without even turning around, not slowing down one bit.

“Don’t know what I did to make you this angry with me, but it needs to stop. Can you at least look at me when I’m trying to talk to you?” Harry says with a pleading tone that makes Zayn stop in his tracks, but it’s still not enough to make him turn around.

Harry takes the opportunity and continues, “You’ve been this moody for weeks now and I know the issue is just with me ‘cause you act normal with the others”, a hint of sadness evident in his voice.

Zayn blinks slowly as showers of guilt pour over him like ice water because he knows he’s been distant from Harry, he knows he’s being a royal dick.  
“What’s wrong, Zayn?”

“Nothing” he say says almost emotionless.

“Is it what happened that night after the club?” Harry says stepping closer to him and putting a hand on his shoulder and whispers “if it is, let me make it better please”.

Those simple words are all it takes to make that regretful memory come rushing to him like a riptide, threatening to drown him right there. The whispers, the touching, the kisses play in his mind like a movie over and over and over again in just a matter of seconds. And just like that the anger is back, fueled and hungry for more.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Harry” he spits out, stunning the younger boy. Now turning around and properly facing him, Zayn continues “You can’t make it better and I don’t want or need your help”, the acid from his word burning the air between them.

Without a second thought Zayn turns around and starts walking again to his room, ignoring the hurt he knows must be plastered on Harry’s face.  
Zayn hates confrontation, he really does. Because he always ends up either getting hurt or hurting someone.

*******

Twelve past midnight and Zayn is still in the bathtub. Cigarette in hand and eyelids closed. The rage that had been his companion for the past two weeks nowhere to be found and for the first time in what seems like ages, he feels peace. The battle that had been going in his head stopped and even though Zayn knows it will eventually return, it’s nice to feel the nothingness around him, the stillness.

Taking another long drag of his cigarette, he sinks deeper into the warm water. When he exhales the smoke through his nose, Zayn can’t help but smirk recalling that one time Perrie told him she wanted to take a puff of his fag just to see how it was. She inhaled too quickly and ended up choking, the smoke coming both out of her mouth and nose. ‘It’s like it’s burning a hole in my throat’ he remembers her saying with watery eyes in the midst of laughing and coughing.  
Perrie’s far from the “ideal girl” he had described in many interviews before, and to some that sparked the belief that they didn’t quite fit together. They don’t listen to the same type of music, or like the same movies, hell, Perrie’s even a blonde with pale skin, not a tanned brunette. They are about as similar as day and night, Zayn knows. But that’s the thing, that’s exactly the reason why he fell for her. Because by not being what he wanted, she ended up being all he loved. And Zayn thinks it’s funny how her small details, the ones that can almost go unnoticed, are what he misses most when on tour. Like how her hair somehow always smells like a faint scent of apples, or how her nose wrinkles when she’s a little mad, or even how she does this silly dance every time she hears her favorite number.

Nonetheless, the relationship wasn’t perfect since with them it was all about extremes. Either it was so wonderful that Zayn would catch himself smiling all the time, or it was so bad that the fighting would go on for days, sometimes even weeks. And it wasn’t just one thing that caused the warfare between them, oh no. It was their careers demanding too much time apart, and Zayn’s moodiness, and Perrie’s will to get her way, but above all, it was Zayn’s incapability to keep it in his pants. Because in those nights where stress made Zayn antsy and the time between their breaks seemed to stretch for years, he simply forgot. Forgot her soft skin, and her deep blue eyes, her toothy smile, and how she made his heart stop for a second when they locked eyes during sex. He just forgot. So after he threw away the condom used for someone who was not her, he would sit on the bed for an hour sulking on his self-hate. He knew exactly what was coming when Perrie found out and Zayn couldn’t bear to see her crumble yet again. She would cry for hours, then she’d scream at him that that was the it time and that she couldn’t do it anymore. But somehow she always ended up forgiving him, so Zayn would do his best to put her back together, piece by piece. Deep down he knew that every time she fell apart, a tiny bit of her got left behind in the wreckage because she was never exactly the same afterwards. And what Zayn feared most was that one day he’ll chip away too much of her, making it impossible for him to ever put her whole again.

So that’s why he made an unspoken vow to be better, to be better for her. Every time that feeling of anxiousness, the one that affected him like amnesia, started to grow, Zayn would just call Perrie. She’d always sooth away the misery with a soft voice and silly jokes making the time until they see each other again seem diminished. For months it worked, the reminder of all he cannot lose just a phone call away, but two weeks ago the burning loneliness scorched temporarily the memory of blue eyes to lure him to green ones instead.

It had always been a silly thing between Harry and him. Nothing other than a very good friendship in which some fans saw something more. Yes, the friendship guidelines had always been stretched between them because one peck-kiss here or a hand on inner thigh there were just things to expect on nights where a swirl of weed and whiskey made their brains go dumb. And that was totally ok, just youthful fuckery that never escalated to more than that. But the thing is that sometimes stretching something for too long makes it lose its shape, and eventually you lose sight of what it was in the first place. So looking back two weeks ago, Zayn knows his and Harry’s friendship guidelines expanded way too much.

The beat of the music had been so loud it made it hard to think. After one too many glasses of Jack Daniels, Zayn had leaned on one of the walls of the club with his head back thinking why the fuck he thought going out that night was a good idea. He felt on edge because being drunk always made him horny and the worst part was Perrie wasn’t there to take the edge off. So he closed his eyes and tried hard not to let the one that held his heart slip out of his mind for even a second.

After half an hour of getting everybody roundup, they were finally in the cars on their way back to the hotel. Zayn was in the second one with just the driver and a very drunk Harry leaning quietly on his shoulder. He laid his head on the headrest and looked out the window, his inebriated state making the streetlights seem like fun-house mirror reflections.

“Zayn” Harry slurred, breath hot against his neck.

“Mmm?”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Don’t know, you seem kind of tense to me” Harry whispered, lips very close but not quite touching his skin.

Zayn didn’t responded, just kept looking out the window. They stayed like that for a while, the radio being the only sound in the car, until Zayn felt lips lightly on his throat. It was such a soft motion that it could had gone unnoticed, so Zayn just allowed it not giving too much thought. It was the hand really high on his inner thigh that really got his attention.

“What are you doing?” Zayn said with eyes still on the window. A nonchalant tone concealing his arousal.

“Helping you out”

“Harry don’t, you know I ca-”

“I won’t tell if you don’t”

He looked down at the younger boy who was already looking back at him. Zayn knew Harry was poking him, testing the limits, because that’s something Harry always did, sober or drunk. It’s like he got off on how far he could take things, how much someone would let him get away with. Zayn knew this game all too well and in other circumstances he would have just ignored it. However, that time was different. Perhaps it was what was left of the alcohol in his system or the fact that he hadn’t been touched in weeks, but when Harry started to get closer and closer, Zayn didn’t move back.

When their lips were just mere centimeters apart, ghostly brushing, Harry paused and moved his gaze from Zayn’s mouth directly to his eyes, then murmured “Do you want me to stop?”

Fuck it Fuck it Fuck it Fuck him, Zayn chanted in his head again and again and again when he fisted Harry’s shirt and with a strong tug, locking their lips.  
Neither of them moved at first, as if they were frozen in place or hesitant on what to do next. Harry somehow snapped out of it and started kissing him slowly, his warm mouth melting Zayn and in the process brings his cold body back to life.

That was the first kiss they ever shared, the first proper one at least, and it burned Zayn from the inside out. He felt like his whole body was on fire and all he wanted was to sink deeper into the flames, letting it consume him slowly until he disappear.

The angle was a little off, so Zayn pulled Harry on him so he could straddle Zayn’s lap properly their crotches now grinding together in a steady rhythm.  
It’s was when Zayn had to choke down a moan that he remembered that they were still in the car and not alone.

“Haz, the driver is right there” Zayn whispered, slowing down his hips but not quit stopping.

“I don’t care.”

“But I do” he said and stopped his movement all together.

That made Harry whine, but seconds later he said to the driver “Bob, roll up the partition please” with a smirk on his mouth. Zayn rolled his eyes because he knew Harry well enough to know that he had just purposely semi-quoted that Beyoncé song that quite frankly did fit their current situation.

The window wasn’t even fully up when Harry attacked Zayn’s lips again, the burning sensation spreading like wildfire. Zayn was grinding up a little harder this time, the force making their cocks rub more through the fabric than before. The friction felt so intense that at some point they stopped kissing, instead panting against each-other’s mouths.

“What are we doing?” Zayn asked breathless.

“Don’t think, just trust me” is the last thing Harry said before he slid in between Zayn’s thighs and started to work his belt and zipper open.

Zayn watched as Harry licked a straight line up his shaft, taking him in his mouth afterwards. Harry took him as far as he could, then bobbed his head up and down Zayn’s length with a steady rhythm, occasionally taking time to suck on the head. Zayn’s head fell back as his vision blurred and that familiar feeling started to grow below his tummy.

“Fuck, babe, j-just suck it out of me” Zayn said gasping for air.

Zayn felt he was tiptoeing over the edge, so he looked down and pulled Harry’s hair just a little bit to signal he was going to come. Harry looked up with a devilish smirk on his face and when their eyes met, Zayn swears something in him combusted and just like that he was coming down Harry’s throat.

 

When his mind comes back to the present, the bath water is cold and his cigarette has burned out. Zayn knows it may all go downhill from here, so he curses himself for his selfishness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back(back), back again!  
> *cue awkward dancing to Eminem's Without me*
> 
>  
> 
> Anywaaaaay, here's the update... enjoy! :D

“You going out tonight?”

“Nah, you?”

“Not really in the mood, wanna come to my room and light up, like, in ten?”

“Yeah sure, let me take a shower and I’ll be there in ten or so.”

“Cool, see you then” Zayn hangs up his phone and sets it on the bedside table. He knows Louis may take a little more than ten minutes, so he lays back on the bed and turns on the T.V. to keep self-occupied until then. Flipping through the channels and not finding much to watch, he ends up settling on a gossip program.

“And tonight on E! News, Kim and Kanye’s marriage on the rocks? All about the best new movies of the month. But first, Harry Styles spotted leaving restaurant with mysterious blonde, who’s the lucky lady?” Zayn rolls his eyes and can’t help but feel sorry for Harry knowing that he’s not the serial-dater the media portrays him to be.

It’s been a few days since he blew up on Harry in the hallway and they haven’t said a word to each other ever since. In fact, Zayn sees how Harry tip-toes around him like he’s a minefield and the slightest interaction will set him off again. Zayn’s not being fair, he knows, because Harry was as drunk, if not more, as he was that night and Harry wouldn’t try to do him wrong on purpose. To be honest Zayn knew that he wasn’t really that angry at Harry at all, he was angrier with himself, since HE was the one who cheated, HE was the one who screwed-up again, and HE was the one who broke his promise.

Zayn’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears three loud knocks on his door.

“Coming."

Before he can get properly up off the bed, he hears three stronger knocks that progress to full-on banging on the door, so he says louder “I’m coming!” By the time he reaches the door, Zayn well knows who’s on the other side.

“God, Lou, can you be a little less childish?”

“Nope, I’m already programed like this my sweet Zaynie boy” Zayn rolls his eyes, but lets him come in nevertheless. Louis’ antics, although sometimes frustrating, are endearing for the most part and Zayn thinks that’s one of the main reasons they have become so close in the last months. 

They settle for smoking out in the balcony since Zayn doesn’t want his room smelling like weed for the rest of the night. Zayn rolls and lights the first one and as it’s passed between the two of them, they talk about anything and everything.

When the buzz really starts kicking in, they stop talking in favor of just enjoying the moment. So Zayn leans back and looks up at the sky, lets his mind get looser and looser. But the thing with being high, at least for Zayn, is that sometimes his problems follow him on his high and they end up coming out unwillingly.

“I cheated again” the words stabbing the inside of Zayn’s mouth as he says them.

“Really?” Louis says sounding unimpressed maybe because Zayn’s sexcapeds where just one of the many topics they were used to talking about or maybe he was just that high.

“Yeah, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Can’t argue with that, who’s she?”

“He” Zayn corrects, his dazed state making the filter on his mouth nonexistent.

“He?!” Louis utters sitting up and now properly looking at him.

Zayn doesn’t respond and instead looks at him as in to say ‘did I stutter?’

“Where you sober?”

“No.”

“Do you love him?”

“No.”

“Are you gay?

“No!”

“Well it’s settled then, it doesn’t count.” Louis declares.

Zayn squints his eyes a bit at him, but still doesn’t say anything more.

“Look, man, for me true cheating starts by getting intimate with someone you shouldn’t. If you say you don’t feel anything for him, well, you don’t. Drunken mistakes happen to the best of us, yeah?”

Zayn nods at him, letting the words sink in slowly. Even though Louis wasn’t the best at giving advice, he did have a point. Zayn was not gay, they were both drunk that night, and most importantly Zayn was not in love with Harry. So technically he didn’t cheat, right?

“One last question, do I know him?”

“Nah.” Zayn lies, in hopes of ending the subject altogether.

When most of the weed is gone and their minds slowly come back down, Louis says he has to go because he promised El he’d call her. 

*******

 It’s settled. After thinking it over and over again, Zayn knows he has to talk to Harry in hopes of getting their friendship back to normal. The uneasiness between them has gone for too long and he fears the other lads will soon start to notice and ask questions, especially Louis. So that’s why he’s on his way to Harry’s room now despite his sweaty hands and not having a clear idea of that to say.

He stands in front of  Harry’s door for about five minutes trying to gather the courage to knock, or call, or text, or whatever, but instead Zayn’s frozen. He raises his hand to knock and when he’s almost touching the surface, the door opens abruptly. Zayn’s met with a stunned Harry in a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, hair a little damp like he had just showered.

“Hey” Zayn says in order to break the awkward silence.

“Hey” Harry replies still looking a little surprised.   

“Can I come in?”

“I was just about to — yeah, sure” Harry steps aside to make way for Zayn to pass.

When Zayn enters, he can smell Harry’s signature cologne in the air making evident that he was about to go out, so he sits down on the hotel couch and waits for Harry to sit beside him and he start quickly.

“Um, I just wanted to start of by saying I’m sorry”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just looks forward with focused eyes that make Zayn feel like he’s staring into his soul.

“I know I was being a huge ass, it’s just I was trying to be better for Perrie ‘cause I love her so much and I was doing so well, but then that night you and the alcohol made me go all stupid   and —

“Zayn, it’s ok” Harry says cutting him off, a gentle hand now placed on Zayn’s shoulder.

“It didn’t meant anything at all for me,” — Zayn swear he sees hurt flash through Harry’s face, but it’s gone in a matter of seconds — “can we go back to being friends?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way” Harry says with a small smile reaching for a hug.

As they hug, Zayn nuzzles his face into Harry’s neck and he can feel Harry doing the same. They stay like that for a few minutes, breathing each other in, until they let go and start backing up. When their faces are front-to-front, about a foot in-between, Zayn finds himself gazing from Harry’s eyes to his lips, and next thing he knows, he’s leaning in slowly, Harry mirroring his actions. They are so close, he can feel Harry’s breath tickling his lips, so he goes further into closing the last centimeters and —

BANG BANG BANG, three loud blows on the door snap them back to reality making them jump away from each other.

 “Harry! You better be fucking ready, I’ve been waiting for almost half an hour!” Zayn can hear Niall shout from the other side of the door.

“Um, I should go” Zayn says nervously standing without looking at Harry and heads to the door.

When he opens it, he’s met with Niall who as soon as he sees him, makes a confused face.

“Zayn? You coming with us?”

“Nah, I was just talking with Harry real quick” he says trying to act and sound as normal as possible.

“Oh, cool”

“Yeah, see you later babe” he says to Niall and before the blond boy can say anything further, Zayn’s already speed-walking halfway to the elevator.

Once inside the elevator, Zayn tries to make sense out of what just happened. 'He’s attractive, so it’s only logic for you to be attracted to him' he tells himself a few times in order to calm down. By the time he reaches his room, Zayn’s much more relaxed, yet he makes a mental note to be more careful when alone with Harry from now on.

*******

Things go back to normal, sort of. They no longer avoid each other and mostly just goof around like they used to. Yet, Zayn can’t shake this feeling of their friendship not being exactly the same. Because the things Harry used to say as jokes, now seem more like statements disguised as silly humor and once friendly touches lost their playfulness altogether.

Zayn sometimes thinks he’s being a little paranoid, that he’s seeing way too much into actions that may not have any deeper meaning than what they essentially are, that Harry is just being his flirty self. But then again, just last week they were playing FIFA and Zayn teasingly shouted “oh, go fuck yourself!” as he was about to lose and Harry simply replied “should I think of you while I’m at it?” And just like that, the humor was all gone.

*******

She’s coming, Perrie’s finally coming for few a days with them on tour. It’s been at least a month since he last saw her in person and now waiting in the airport for her flight to arrive is making Zayn anxious. Maybe it’s the anticipation of being with her or the fact he knows eventually someone is going to recognize him and all hell will break loose, but he feels that nauseous sensation you get with nerves and it’s resulting in him checking the time almost every minute.

Half an hour later, the plane finally lands and Zayn looks carefully at the passengers coming out trying to spot Perrie, when at last he sees her. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized sweater, hair tied up in a ponytail and face almost bare of makeup. Her eyes looked tired, but once she caught sight of Zayn, they light up. As soon as she was close enough to Zayn, Perrie ran and he welcomed her in his arms.

“Fucking missed you” he said into Perrie’s neck as he lifted her a little in a tight hug.

“I haven’t” she giggles backing a bit and giving him a sweet peck on the lips.

They quickly got in the car and made their way to the venue the band had a concert at that night. Perrie would be staying with them in the tour-bus since Zayn forgot that for those three days there weren’t any hotel nights scheduled. She didn’t seem to mind and at least they had that one room at the back of the bus for some privacy.

 They arrived about thirty minutes later at the venue and quickly left her things on the bus to join the rest of the band at rehearsals.

“Hi, lads” Perrie said shyly as she approached where they were all huddle-up in the corner of the stage, Zayn right behind her. It sometimes surprised him how timid she still got around them at first, but then after a few hours she’d be clowning around with Niall or having a heart-to-heart with Liam, all shyness left behind.  

“Perriehhh!” Louis cheerfully shouted standing up to give her a hug. The rest of them immediately followed with friendly greetings and welcoming smiles, Harry ending up as the last one and taking just a bit more time to talk with her. Zayn went a little rigid watching them interact fearing Perrie could sense something was wrong, like that one time she knew Zayn had broken something of hers just by giving him a swift look-over, ‘it’s a gift’ she had said proudly.

“You’re so silly” he heard her say playfully as Harry works that particular smile he only uses when he wants to be extra charming. Instantly Zayn’s body loosens up as he felt he could breathe properly again.

That night was one of the best shows so far, Zayn thinks. Everybody’s energy level was at an all-time high, the fans were louder (if that is even possible) than usual and he hit all his high notes like it was second nature to him. Perhaps it was result of all the cans of redbull they drank right before the show, or maybe the fact that he knew someone special was watching, but tonight he felt invincible. And nothing, not even Harry staring occasionally at him with a blank expression that made Zayn’s stomach flip for a second, could take that away.

After the concert, most of the lads and part of the crew decided to go out to one of the high-end clubs of the area to celebrate that show for being one of the smoothest running ones of the tour so far. Even though Zayn was still buzzing and had more than enough energy for the outing, he opted to stay in and rejoice in the small amount of time he had that night to spend alone with Perrie.

There was a pre-game going on at Bus 1 for those who would head to the club later and for those who just wanted to drink without having to dress-up, so Zayn went ahead to the second bus knowing it’d be empty, and to his luck it was. After showering, Zayn went to the tiny kitchen in the middle of the bus to make tea for the both of them while he waited for her to clean up. Soon after, Perrie joined him, sitting on the small countertop facing away from the entrance. They stayed there awhile trading stories about tour life and gradually sipping on their tea.

“And this one time Leigh-Anne was laughing so hard she…” Perrie continued her story, but Zayn drifted off, not listening anymore and instead focusing on how enthusiast and child-like she was when retelling anecdotes, one of the things he most liked about her.

“She was so embarrassed that…babe, are you ok? Am I boring you?” she said with a concerned face. 

“No, no. It’s just I was about to”— he placed himself between her legs and gave her a soft kiss on the lips, Perrie responding by giving him one back. It was an exchange of chaste kiss that quickly got heated and soon after, he was inside her, Perrie still sitting on the countertop.

 Muffled moans filling the silence in the bus as he ever-so-lightly thrust into her, skin so soft and porcelain-like, he didn’t want to risk damaging it. But when her nails dug deeper into his back, Zayn knew that was her way of telling him he could go a little harder, so he did. He nuzzled into her neck, whispering how good she felt and how much he missed this, his gaze falling on the empty bus entrance.

When his orgasm was close but not quite there yet, his eyes fell closed for what felt like a microsecond and when they opened again, a startled Harry stood in the once unoccupied entry. Zayn didn't stop and Harry didn’t move, just watched with wide eyes and an unreadable face. ‘He wants to watch, then I’ll give him a fucking show’ Zayn thought as he quickened his rhythm, making Perrie moan louder and his orgasm creep closer. Zayn’s gaze shifted from Harry’s eyes to where he was biting his lip, the image alone being enough for him to cum - crying out several obscenities, Perrie following him soon after.

Once his breathing got even and his heartbeat slowed down, Zayn looked up to the once again vacant entrance, questioning if Harry was really ever there.

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so first I want to apologizes for the delay. As a first time "writer" I tend to second guess EVERYTHING I write, meaning it takes me more time to get my shit together and stick to a particular idea. Second, I'm trying to portray Perrie as someone likable, despite my real thoughts on her, since she is one of the main characters. So if any of you see her characterization a little off in anyway , well, that's why.
> 
> I want to thank my beta, Sam, for taking time to sit with me and keep this story rolling, I LUH YA MAMI! Also I want to to thank everyone who has taken time to read my work, I deeply appreciate it.
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos or a comment on what you think will happen next(suggestions are welcomed too).
> 
> PS: sorry for any typos 
> 
> Until next time, my friends! -Nicole


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Let me start by saying how much I deeply appreciate all of you who took time to leave a comment or kudos on my author’s note and work, they were the fuel that kept me writing through my constant internal battles. Also, shout out to my lovely beta, Gabriela, for editing this and being my cheerleader whenever I doubted myself, which is almost all the time.
> 
> Well, after many crying sessions, two bottles of wine and an almost/not quite nerves breakdown…Here’s the update.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -N xx

_He was there. He wasn’t there. He was there. He wasn’t there. He was there. He wasn’t there._ **_He was there_.**

Zayn had debated it in his head the morning after the incident. Harry was definitely there, Zayn saw him, he was sure of that. But the thing is, Harry played it out completely normal, as nothing had happened, as he didn’t see Zayn fuck Perrie, as he didn’t just stood there staring, watching, taking it all in like the twisted fuck he sometimes is. So Zayn simply went with it. Didn’t say anything, didn’t go talk to Harry about it, didn’t talk to anyone about it, because truth to be told, he didn’t trust himself with that subject any more. In fact, it kind of scared him. So he just pushed it to the back of his mind, in the _maybe sort later_ file, and just enjoyed the time he had left with the only one who should’ve been on his mind.

The three days he got to spend with her were great, in fact those days were brilliant. They mostly consisted of the concerts at night, sleeping-in almost all day and sex every time they had the chance. Zayn knew that those three days weren’t memorable enough to even remember a few months from now, but to him they were just what he needed. Being away for so long, in cold hotel rooms that eventually look all the same, made him crave warmness and familiarity, made him crave home. So when Perrie came on tour, regardless of how much time it was for, Zayn felt appeased because at least for those nights he didn’t feel homesick or unsettled, instead her warmness became his home away from home. Therefore, when their time was up and she had to go again, Zayn dreaded it because he well knew the bitterness to come.

“Call me when you land” he had said while putting her bags in the back of the car that took her to the airport.

“I will” Perrie responded and kissed him softly on the lips. “I love you, don’t forget that” she said with some sorrow, that could’ve almost gone unnoticed, as she backed away, eyes conveying what Zayn knew she didn’t dare to say out loud.

“I won’t” he said as truthfully as possible hoping to reassure any trust she still had on him, then kissed her on the forehead goodbye.

She’s been gone for only a day, yet Zayn sensed the coldness starting to creep on him again like the colors of autumn do to the summer leaves.

Getting ready now for another award show— one they don’t really care about wining anymore, but still attend to nevertheless— Zayn feels a little spaced-out and out of it. They are all in the hotel room that was primarily booked with the sole purpose of being used as the ready-up headquarters so it would be easier for the boys to get dressed and prepared for tonight. At one end was Lou’s station where she currently was working on Liam’s hair while Louis, sitting beside Liam and not ready yet, teased and served as playful obstacle resulting on her yelling “Louis, bugger off and get ready!” Zayn was at the other end, in the wardrobe station, where Caroline was now working on straightening up and putting the finishing touches on his Armani suit.

“You alright, love?” she said glancing up and making him snap out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You sure?” He could tell there was concern on her voice and face, but he didn’t feel like having a heart-to-heart right now so he just nodded and offered her a small smile.

She look like she wanted to question him further, but instead offered a simple “okay” and walked away to the other side of the room to tell Liam he was next, leaving Zayn in front of the mirror where he started to alter the outfit to his liking.

“Well, that suit looks real nice on you,—Zayn’s eyes snapped up to the figure now standing beside him on the reflection, it was Harry— but, to be fair, you look nice in almost everything.” He ended his compliment with a smile, not a flirtatious one, but a sweet one instead.

“You look good y’self, mate.” Zayn responded, both of them still looking at each other throughout their reflections. Harry had on a black Yves Saint Laurent suit paired with a white with roses Alexander McQueen button down shirt. The first three buttons were not buttoned, as usual, so you could see Harry’s cross necklace and one of the sparrow tattoos below his collarbone.

“I know” he replied as he flashed Zayn a bright smile that made him look young and innocent, like he was in the X Factor days.

Zayn stared at him fondly and before he knew it, he was throwing an arm on Harry’s shoulders to bring him closer. It wasn’t something sexual, not at all, but instead something more chaste, more simple. They had been through this weird tension for what Zayn felt was so long, that he had kind of forgotten how their friendship used to be, how effortless it really was. He misses it, he misses them, and looking at Harry’s expression now, Zayn could tell he’s thinking the same.

“Look Zayn, I—”

“Harry! Go get your ass to Lou, we have to be on our way in ten minutes” Caroline interrupted making them detangle from one another and turn around. Harry gazed back at him with an apologetic look, and then quickly made his way to where Lou was waiting for him.

*******

The red carpet was better than Zayn had expected. It wasn’t as chaotic as usual, meaning the short interview ran smoother than other times, plus he got to meet some new artist as well as say hello to the ones he already knew. The award show exceeded his expectations as well. They won two awards and some of the performances were actually enjoyable. So all in all, it wasn’t turning out to be the stressful night he had imaged it will be.

But now at the show’s after party, a place where the winners and losers came together to drink and make one-night-only friendships that they probably wouldn’t remember in the morning, Zayn kind of feels awkward and a little out of place. It’s stupid, Zayn knows, to feel like he doesn’t fit-in in place surrounded by people that, to some extent, are in the same position as him, but the thing is, sometimes he does. He’s never been like the other four, the social butterflies that float around gracefully. Making conversations with strangers seems like it’s second nature to them. And it’s not that he hates all of this, it’s just events like this where you are expected to be social are not exactly his forte. So, while Niall is taking shots with Olly, Louis and Liam are chatting up with a group of people Zayn doesn’t care about getting to know, and Harry, well Harry is probably somewhere making connections he will most likely need when the inevitable “life after 1D” comes. Zayn settled for going to the bar to order anything with whisky, hoping a little of alcohol in his system would make time run faster.

He sat at the bar for what must have been at least ten minutes, gradually sipping his drink as he did, when he feels someone pinch his side. He looks back to find a smirking brunette with a short red dress, black high heels and long dark hair that cascades beautifully down her small shoulders. The girl looks at Zayn expectantly, like she’s waiting for him to say something, anything, but when at of confusion he doesn’t, she rolls her eyes and sight heavily.

 “Aren’t you fucking gonna say hello?” she asks annoyed. That voice, he recognizes that voice, he’s heard it many times before, Zayn’s sure. So it takes him only a second to know exactly who she is.

“Vanessa?” 

“Took you long enough, y’prick” she teased, now smirking again and leaning in to hug him.

Vanessa was an aspiring singer he had met at a club a few years ago through a mutual friend. She had a really chill personality and a sarcastic sense of humor, so the two of them hit it off right away. In the months that followed, they either text or called each other almost every week, becoming very close friends rather quickly, and even though Vanessa was quite beautiful, with her long legs and chocolate brown eyes, Zayn never actually saw her as more than a friend, and a very good one at that. She was the first girl he had ever had a truly platonic friendship with, a friendship that even Perrie highly approved of, so to him it was important not to fuck it up.

 “What are you doing here?” he says backing away and genuinely happy to see her there.

“Apparently I’m important enough to be invited to this things now. Plus, you looked like a lone loser sitting here, so I figured you needed another loser to make you company.”

They tried to continue the conversation, but the loud banging music kept making it hard to hear each other, so Zayn offers for them to go out the back of the venue so he could have a smoke and they could actually have the chance to talk. He signals one of their bodyguards where he’s going, and, without thinking, takes Vanessa’s hand, leading her to the exit door. 

The backside of the building was a parking lot that for some reason was completely empty, only the noise of the cars that passed from time to time disturbed what was otherwise a silent site. It looks like reasonable enough place for them to talk, so Zayn settled for it.

“You look different.” He sat on a small set of stares close by, searching his pockets to retrieve the pack of smokes and the lighter he knew where there.

“I know. I was tired of being a blonde, so I became the next best thing” she responded, flipping her hair dramatically as she settled next to him on the steps.

Zayn snorts, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. “Suits you” he replies, the smoke coming out his mouth creating a grayish cloud around them that soon disappears in the cool air.

“Apparently you’re the only one who seems to think so. Geena hates it.”

“Geena?”

“Oh, yeah, just girl I’ve been fucking for the pass month. But I don’t think she wants anything serious with me” she added that last part with bitterness.

“Cheer up V, you can always marry me.” He swings an arm over her shoulder to bring her closer and gives her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Get off me Malik, your testosterone is making me nauseous” Vanessa says in the midst of giggling and pushing him off. They both laughed for a while, Zayn eventually letting her go to continue smoking.

“So, how’s the missus doing? Y’know, we could always do that thing I told you last time.”

Zayn snorts again, nudging her with his shoulder this time. “She’s fine. And no, we’re not having a three-way with you.”

“You don’t even have to participate, it could always be just me and her.” Zayn gives her a stern look and tries to hold it as long as possible, but when she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, they both lose it and go into another fit of laughter.

When they have completely sobered up, she then proceeds to ask, “Have you been good?”, now sounding a little more serious.

Zayn knows exactly what Vanessa’s asking about, but doesn’t know how to answer, because he has been good, but then again, he hasn’t. So, No? Yes? Maybe? All of the above? None of them at all? Zayn doesn’t want to lie to her, but he also doesn’t want to go into the  _Harry Subject_  because he knows more questions will be asked and he doesn’t want to deal with it, at least not now. So he goes with the safest one.

“I have” he says looking down at his hands. Vanessa squints her eyes at him, probably not convinced at all, so Zayn quickly changes the subject by asking her about her music. At first, she answers kind of suspicious, but soon after goes on about her plans for her new music, eventually forgetting about the previous subject because she never brings it up again.

They talk for a good hour or so before Dave comes out to tell him it’s almost 2am and Niall is too drunk so they have to go back to the hotel. Zayn stands up, hugs Vanessa goodbye, and as he leaves promises her to text or call her soon.

 

*******

They all say their goodbyes and farewells, and by 2:30am they are out of the building and in the SUVs. It was an unvoiced decision by all of them to jump into the first car instead of taking separate ones, and even though Paul wasn’t exactly on board with it, for security reasons, he let them be, knowing they’re all tired and desperate to get to the hotel as fast as possible.  

“Where the fuck’ve y’been?” Niall slurs when he realizes Zayn is in the car with them.

“Yeah, mate. You disappeared for a while there” Liam continues.

“With a friend” Zayn answers, not giving much away.

“Yeah, I bet” Louis says with an all-knowing look that makes Zayn glare back at him.

“Did she’ve nice tits?” Niall blurts out gesturing to the nonexistent breasts on his chest.

“It was Vanessa, y’pricks” Zayn clarifies now annoyed. No one says anything further on that matter, and instead start talking about some other nonsense Zayn doesn’t really care about so he takes his phone out to text Perrie.

_On my way to the hotel, call u when I get there xx :)_

He doesn’t get a response right away so he just puts his phone back in his pocket and leans his head back on the headrest to try and take a small nap so he won’t get sleepy when he calls her. The nap makes the car-ride seem like a New York minute because before he knows it, Liam is poking his face to wake him up and tell him they had arrived.

At the elevator, his phone vibrates in his pocket, so he takes it out and sees it’s a text from Perrie.

_Don’t bother._

Zayn eyebrows furrow in confusion, so he types,  _U ok, babe?_ , praying to all the gods she answers yes.

Ten seconds later his phone vibrates again with another text from her, it’s a photo, actually, two photos. They are both kind of dark and blurry, so Zayn has to squint his eyes a little in order get a proper look at them. But it doesn’t take him long to realize that they are both photos of him and Vanessa tonight. The first one shows them hand in hand inside the party, and the other one shows him kissing her cheek at the staircase. Zayn’s first thoughts are  _who the fuck took these and why the fuck is Perrie mad if it’s just Vanessa_ , but then it hit him like cold water. Because of her hair, Vanessa doesn’t look like Vanessa.

“Shit” Zayn utters, earning him confused looks from everyone in the elevator. As soon as the doors open on his floor, Zayn practically runs to his room, ignoring the concerned looks he feels drilling holes on his back. Once inside, he immediately dials her number and calls her, each  _ring_  making his heart beat faster, she doesn’t answer. He tries a second time, but after only one ring it goes straight to voicemail.

“Fucking answer” he says nervously, palms sweaty as he calls again for the third time, then the forth, and on the fifth, the ringing stops.

“WHAT?!” she practically screams through the line.

“Babe, look, let me—”

“No! I don’t fucking wanna hear your excuses!” Zayn suddenly has a dejavu of all the other fights that have started just like this, but he shakes it off and focuses on explaining, because this time he is actually going into this fight as an “innocent” man.

“Wait, listen, she is—”

“I don’t care, I don’t want to know who she is Zayn! You’re an asshole, you couldn’t even wait a day after I was gone, could you?” Zayn could sense a familiar burning feeling start to coil in his stomach, the one that made foul things snake out of his mouth, so he took a deep breath and tried again because he didn’t want to start a war with her, not now.

“It’s not what it seems, I was just—”

“No!” —he could hear her voice now starting to brake a little—“You always do this to me, you make me look like the biggest fool for always taking you back and the saddest part is I actually thought this time I could trust a selfish prick like y—”

“Would you stop being a bitch and fucking listen to me!” Zayn regrets the spiteful words as soon as they come out, because he hates getting like this with her, hates hurting her with his words as much as he has with his actions. But before he could take them back, take it all back, he hears Perrie sob an almost inaudible “Bye Zayn.” The call drops immediately after, and Zayn is left once again to sulk in his all-too-familiar self-hate.

*******

 He called Perrie probably about thirty times, each one going to the same place the last one did, Perrie’s voicemail. The room is now dead silent now, Zayn has stayed staring at his phone for the past twenty minutes, counting and recounting all the ways he always manages to fuck everything up. And it is true that this time he had done no wrong, that this time it really was a misinterpretation, but truther truth, the one that sat heavy on his chest, was the fact that, in some way, this was his fault too. Because every one of his indiscretions had brought him and his relationship to this point. 

Suddenly his phone buzzes with a text, and Zayn’s heart stops for a couple of millisecond with anticipation, because maybe, just maybe, it will be from her. But it isn’t, it’s from Louis.

 

_Z, don’t go on Twitter. Not worth it_

 

Zayn looks at the text, strongly considering for the first time doing as his told, because he shouldn’t get sucked into the whirlpool that is social media, because he knows the photos must be all over Twitter by now, and most certainly, because the fans are probably flipping-shit about it. But, more often than not, Zayn does exactly the opposite of what he should, and as result, finds himself going down the rabbit hole once again. Soon regretting that he did.

 

_“Zayn cheating, pfft what’s new?”_

 

_“Wtf  Zayn, again? thought you were better than that…”_

 

  _“Don’t even know why Perrie still puts up with Zayn’s cheating ass, like I would’ve dumped the fucker already”_

 

Zayn reads tweet after tweet after tweet, each one worse than the last, filled with snide remarks about him, about Perrie, about their relationship. He can feel his blood starting to boil in his veins. Zayn wants to scream, punch something, anything, and get it all out. This is fucking ridiculous he thinks as he tries to control the urge to throw his phone against the wall.

 

It’s at times like this the reason why he hates this job, hates all of it. Because no amount of money and fame can compensate the fact that his private life gets displayed like a fucking circus act for everyone to discuss over Sunday brunch like it’s not real, like he’s not real, like it never actually affects him. But the thing is, it does, and it hurts him because it seems as if they enjoy to showcase every flaw he knows he has, every mistake he’s ever done, rejoicing in the fact at least they are not as fucked up as him. And maybe they are right in a way, he can be a twisted fuck at times, Zayn knows, but that doesn’t make it ok, doesn’t make any of it ok.  

His hands are shaking, his knees too, and Zayn just wants to get out, to think, to rethink, to calm down, to fucking breathe. He knows they won’t let him out of the hotel this late, and most certainly not alone. So grabbing his phone, smokes and room key, Zayn makes his way to the one place that even though it changes from hotel to hotel, it always made him feel the same.

*******

He touches the cold steel door, pushing it lightly to make his way out. As soon as the cool air hits his face, and his entire body, Zayn feels himself calming down, the anxiety diminishing with every second he’s there. It’s a beautiful night, there are no stars visible to the naked eye, only a full moon shining dimly where the sun used to be. Dots of light garnished the buildings all-around him, as if the missing stars in the sky had fallen and clung themselves to the skyscrapers. Zayn doesn’t know exactly for how long he has been doing this, coming to rooftops, he just knew that every time he felt like a caged animal, trapped with no way out, he ended up here, in one of these. He thinks it’s ironic, how the reason he still doesn’t go on roller-coaster, the reason he still finds himself clinging onto airplane seats for dear life as it takes-off,is the very same reason why he loves this place to begin with. Being up here makes all his problems seem so distant, far away like the faded noises of the city life hundreds of feet below and that’s exactly what he needs.

Zayn walks to one of those big metal air condoning unites, the one closest to the ledge, and sits on it with his knees up to his chest. From there he can see almost everything, from the tiny ant people walking seamlessly on the sidewalks, to the city lights that seem to stretch for miles and miles out of eyesight. His chest feels softer now, looser, his hands are not sweating anymore and his heartbeat is so mild it’s almost not there at all. Zayn falls in a trance, a deep one, with the view, the city, the buildings, the people strolling hundreds of feet below with simpler lives that he can only dream about having for himself. 

*******

“Zayn?” A familiar voice pulls him out of his dazed state. Zayn glances to his right to see that it’s Harry the one disturbing his most needed tranquility.

“What’re y’doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

Zayn scoffs to himself, turning back to his original position, he gazes back on the city. “Well here you’ve me”

“I saw the frenzy on Twitter, are you ok? Is Perr—”

“Don’t” Zayn muttered monotonously. He won’t talk about this with Harry, he won’t to talk about _her_. And Harry seemed to get the message because he assumes the same position as Zayn and keeps quiet for a minute, a short one if you ask Zayn, before trying again.

“Four years ago it never occurred to any of us that it could sometimes get this bad, that the fans and the media could sometimes be this bad. I’m sorry this happened to you and it’s unfair they get to judge you this way. It’s just— they see what they want to see, Zayn, see what they want to believe in.” —Harry pauses to inhale deeply, and continues—“It’s much more interesting for them to believe that I flirt and shag everything that moves, rather than to actually consider that I might not be like that at all.”

Zayn can hear the undertones of pain in Harry’s voice, can actually feel it radiate from his body, and it’s a wistful sight to behold because Harry never gets like this, never lets anyone see just how much fame has cruelly affected him. And Zayn knows they aren’t really that much alike, Harry and him, but in moments like this, moments where Harry takes off the ‘popstar’ mask long enough, Zayn can see the common ground between them. How now they actually are different sides of the same coin.

“But y’know what?” —Harry continues—“Let’em talk, ‘cause they’ll never get to see the Zayn we know. The one that gives hugs just because, the one that cried watching Up that one time, and especially the one that cares about others happiness sometimes more than his own. They’ll never get to see the incredible person we see every day, that I see every day. They’ll forever miss-out on the real you.”

Zayn looks fondly at Harry, a small smile on his lips, as he reaches out and puts his hand on Harry’s knee, gives it a light squeeze to thank him, now kind of glad that he is not up there alone. Harry smiles back, and as their eyes meet, Zayn swears something in his stomach completely flips, so he shies away, retrieving his hand to make space between them, to keep himself together.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow a bit, and for a moment, he seems like he may say something, be then he doesn’t, retrieving too to his original position. Zayn doesn’t want to make things awkward, so he says the first thing that comes to mind.

“When I was younger, a lot younger actually, Doniya and I used to play this game where we’d look at lit up windows on flat buildings at night and see who could make up the craziest story ‘bout the people that lived there. Whoever lost had to buy the winner their favorite chocolate bar from the shop near our house.” Nostalgia hits Zayn and he can’t help but smile at the memory of an easier time of his life, a time where the biggest worry he had was winning a game against his sister so she had to buy him candy.

“Life was just simpler back then, y’know”, he adds, this time with some dismal because it’s the truth. Back then there was no Zayn Malik from One Direction, there was just Zain. A normal lad who was fascinated by art and literature. Nothing extravagant, nothing outstanding, and he was totally happy with being just that. But don’t get him wrong, it’s not that Zayn isn’t happy now,  he  truly is, it’s just this happy is a different kind of happy, a more complex one, that he has learned to see as an ongoing roller-coaster with really big highs, but also very deep lows.

Harry must’ve pick up on the quick shift on Zayn’s mood, because before Zayn can continue down this gloomy road, he says “Well, you see that window over there?”—Zayn looks up the right at window Harry’s pointing at—“There lives Tom with his pet turtles, Tim, Joe and Ben Von Bacon —”

“That’s not a—”

“Shhh, Zayn, this is my story.” Zayn chuckles, once again looking fondly at Harry. He knows what Harry’s trying to do, how he’s trying to cheer Zayn up, and that makes him appreciate his company even more than before.

Harry clears his throat and continues, “As I was saying, before being rudely interrupted, he lives there with his three pet turtles. Oh, he’s a scientist too. And every night he works on his secret project, a project that will forever change the world as we know.” Harry leans towards, voice a bit lower, “He’s working a mutation his pet turtles so they can become crime fighting tartlets.”

“Is he a big TMNT fan?” Zayn asks holding back a giggle.

Harry looks seriously from side to side, like his making sure they are indeed alone, then leans closer to Zayn’s ear and whispers “Huge” in this ridiculous nasal voice that has Zayn throwing his head back breaking into laughter immediately.

*******

The game goes on for quite some time, a back-and-forth exchange of outrageous tells about the lives of people they’ve never met. Laughter fills the air of the once silent rooftop and Zayn’s tummy is starting to hurt from laughing so hard, a pleasant feeling he hadn’t had in a long time.

They slowly sober up, the laughter dying-out as they do. Zayn glances at Harry’s face and sees it, sees how truly breathtaking Harry is like this, with his dimples deep, eyebrows arched and gleeful expression that makes him look younger. He looks so bright that Zayn questions for a moment if he’s one of the missing stars from tonight’s starless sky. And Harry must be thinking something along those lines about Zayn, because he just stops laughing and looks back, face hard and soft at the same time, pupils so big, Zayn could almost fall into the abyss of black and never come out.

They get lost in eachother, lost in the moment, so lost ,in fact, that Harry leans in and kisses Zayn gently on the mouth, lips soft as clouds, but immediately jolts back to his feet when he realizes what he’s done.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,”—he paced back and forth— “I didn’t mean to, shit I just—”

Zayn doesn’t let him finish, instead pulls him between his thighs and cuts him off with another kiss, a harder one, full of intent. He can sense Harry was taken by surprise with the way he gets stone still at first, but soon relaxes into it, putting his hand on either side of Zayn’s jaw to take some control. It goes slow and heavy, both of them taking the time to get properly used to the feel of their mouths, get a rhythm in place. This kiss is unlike the first one, which was kind of sloppy and hurried, this instead is sweetly candid, with both of them completely aware of each other, not drowned by the heaviness alcohol. Kissing him again, kissing him like this, was making Zayn feel a tingling sensation all over his body, as if tiny atoms were combusting in every place his and Harry’s skin had contact, resulting in a swarm of microscopic eruptions that curled his toes and made the hair at the back of his neck stand up.

Harry breaks the kiss, backing away to rest his forehead on Zayn’s, “Are you sure ‘bout this? We could stop.”

Zayn nods, not even taking a second to think, because at this point he thinks he doesn’t have anything else to lose, and because he wants this and he wants Harry and there isn’t any room left for pretending, not any more. And he thinks Harry deep down knows that, yet, he doesn’t move, stays put with a hesitant expression and slightly shaky hands, so Zayn ads “I’m sure” to reassure him, sliding his fingers up the back of Harry’s neck to pull him in again.

This second round starts gentle, almost like they're back at square one, with feather-light kisses that slowly, but surely, become passionate ones. Zayn can feel Harry’s tongue graze his bottom lip, as if to ask for permission to go in, so he opens up, lets Harry invade his mouth and explore, lets him have whatever he wants because at the end of the day, Harry always gets his way, always. Zayn thinks he could kiss Harry all day, taste those cherry-like lips that look so plump and gentle, yet burn to the touch, feel Harry’s big hands caress his sides in a way that makes him think he might pass-out any moment.

Zayn places his hands loosely on Harry’s hips, ghostly enough that he know Harry might not even feel them. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to touch Harry, because —seriously— that’s all he’s craving right now. It has to do more with the fact that Harry is a vast new territory, a new place he feels he’s never been too, and Zayn simply doesn’t know. Doesn’t know where or how to properly touch Harry’s skin, to make him feel as desperate as Zayn is, to make him shiver and twist and turn and squirm under Zayn’s hands. He just doesn’t know.

And Harry must be a mind reader of some sort, or maybe he knows Zayn better than he thinks. Because Harry takes Zayn’s hands and shows him, puts them up his shirt, makes Zayn drag his nails from Harry’s hips all the way to his chest, to his nipples, and leaves them there for Zayn to do as he pleases. And Zayn does, caressing and scratching and rubbing and just feeling Harry’s warm the skin under his touch.

After that, his hands go then to Zayn’s crotch, cupping the growing bulge through the thin material of Zayn’s sweatpants and making Zayn groan with approval. He moves slowly, an up and down teasingly motion that has Zayn feeling hungrier for Harry than he was before.

“Fucking do it” Zayn mumbles out, to desperate to play any games.

Harry smiles against Zayn’s lips. “Your wish is my command” he murmurs, dipping into Zayn’s sweatpants and taking his cock out. Harry pumps lightly, kissing a trail from Zayn’s neck all the way to his ear, lips leaving goosebumps on the skin as he goes.

“Now you show me” Harry purred warmly once he reached Zayn’s earlobe, licking afterwards. Zayn shivers at it, the inside of his stomach coiling in a way he hadn’t felt before, but without missing a beat, he places his right hand over Harry’s and the other on his shoulder to braced himself.

Zayn starts easy. He mildly strokes himself, gradually speeding the pace to establish a rhythm so he can show Harry what he likes, show him how he likes it. Zayn can’t lie, he appreciates this, the way Harry takes care of him, always working towards making Zayn feel good. And it’s a change, a good one, because generally is the other way around when he’s with Perrie, or in those unmentionable times, when he’s with other girls.

“Like this?” Harry whispers, applying a bit of pressure to his grip.

Zayn nods, he thinks he can’t trust words anymore.

“No, I want you to say it.”

“Fuck, ye-yeah, like that”, his voice shaky and hoarse.

“Good.” Harry picks up the pace, fist twisting a bit when he gets to the head of Zayn’s cock. The pleasure has Zayn feeling lightheaded, his heart pumping so frantically on his chest that Zayn thinks this is it, he may actually die like this. So he rests his forehead on Harry’s shoulder to try and stay focus, when he realizes how painfully hard Harry is in his pants. Without thinking, Zayn’s hand flies off his own cock and onto fumble with Harry’s belt, he wants to touch Harry, wants for Harry to feel as good as his making Zayn feel. Harry lets him, breath hitching as soon as Zayn touches his erection. He manages to fit them into a hand, pumping fast and desperate as he clashes their lips in a toe-curling kiss that has them sighing with relief. Harry’s flustered, Zayn can tell, with the way he’s borderline fucking into Zayn’s fist. So he goes slower, takes time at their tips, rubbing and spreading and mixing their pre-cum together, to take some control, for this not to end so soon even though he’s well on his way to coming undone.

“That night, fuck, that night I saw you with her,”—Harry manages out, voice shaky, like he’s as close to coming as Zayn—“I didn’t meant to watch, it’s just, I couldn’t stop… and then you looked at me…you just fucking looked at me and I knew”—Harry gulps—“I just knew how much I wanted you to fuck me too.” Those words break something in Zayn because before he knows it, his eyes roll back and he’s making this embarrassing strangled noises as the cum flows in intervals out of him.

Harry follows soon after, grouting and biting down on Zayn’s neck as Zayn milks the last of their orgasms out of them.

They stay like that for a minute, Zayn sitting and Harry standing between his legs, waiting in the aftershock for their breaths and hearts to calm down just enough so they can actually move. Zayn looks down and sees that a small, very small, drop cum got on Harry’s suit pants.

“Some of the jizz got to your trousers, Caroline’s gonna kill you.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll just tell’er it’s yours.”

Zayn starts chuckles, straightening himself up so he can disentangle from Harry.

“This is just messing around” Zayn says almost like a whisper but not quite, not sure if it’s a question or a statement or if he’s just reassuring himself of what this is.

But before he can say anything else, Harry lifts his chin up and places a sweet chaste kiss on his lips, breaking away seconds later and purring sweetly against his mouth, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we meet again.  
> First things first (I’m the realest), I want apologies again for my ass being soooo tardy all the damn time. I have to say that it really amazes me that all of you like this despite me being the asshole that never updates on time, so thanks to all of you whom are still here and want to read more. I also want to thank my beautiful St. Gabs for beta-ing this, as well as a certain special someone that has been on my dick for months encouraging me to finish it. You know who you are.  
> All the remaining mistakes are mine.  
> And now, without further ado, here’s the update. Enjoy.
> 
> -N xx  
> (P.S. if for next chapter once again I take too long to update, please do go to tumblr and harass my ass until I do it haha)

The sun shines bright in the midday sky. Emerald green grass pricks through Zayn’s pants where he’s sitting and tickles the skin there. The wind blows gently, moving his hair away from his face with a touch as careful as his mother’s. Zayn’s under a tree in a vast plain field covered in green as far as the eye sight can reach. He breathes in the air, so pure and clean that it feels like it’s cleansing his cigarette corrupted lungs.  

“Do you like it here?” a small voices says, coming from Zayn’s right side. He turns his head and sees it’s a younger Safaa, at least three years younger.

“Yeah, it feels peaceful. Where are we?”

“I don’t know, silly. You tell me,” she giggles innocently like she used to, all bright eyes and sweet, and Zayn’s suddenly hit by how truly homesick he feels.

His eyes travel down to her hands where she’s holding two glass jars with something fluttering in them. “What are those?”

“It’s a butterfly and a moth.”

“Did you catch them?”

“No.”- She giggles again-“You did.”

“When?”

“When you _buzzzzzzzzz_ ”

“When I what?”

“When you _buzzzzzzzzz_ ”

Zayn can see her lips moving, but the only sounds that comes out is a continuous buzz that starts growing louder and louder until he even feels it in his bones.

Zayn blinks once, and everything turns black. Blinks twice, and now everything is white. The grass, the sky, the tree, they are all gone and replaced with a white fuzzy-looking ceiling. The sun’s rays don’t caress his skin anymore; instead, cool air takes its place.

He blinked the sleepiness away and sighs sitting up in the bed. All his senses are still somewhat shut down, so he looks around a little confused trying to remember where he is and how he got there. The room is poorly lit, there are only some streams of light coming through the curtains. He can barely see since his eyesight isn’t properly functioning yet. Though, it doesn’t take much for all of it to click. The overwhelm-ness of white, the generic decoration, the unfamiliar cold air, all tell-tale signs of the hotel/tour syndrome he’s become used to. He’s back in his hotel room.

The bed tilts slightly, covers shifting as it does, but Zayn’s not moving. His heart starts to pound in his chest realizing there’s someone else with him. “T’fuck?” Zayn whispers to himself, still frozen in place and trying to recall the night before. But it’s when a raspy sleepy voice coming from under the covers says “yeahyeah, thealbumisout”, all mumbled together and incoherent, that he recognizes that it’s just Harry. So he relaxes instantly, remembering that after the rooftop-handjob, they just came back to Zayn’s to hang out, falling asleep soon after, given that it was 4am by then.

To be honest, Zayn didn’t regret the night before, didn’t regret Harry. He was feeling trapped and angry and frustrated, and the fans and media were gaining up on him in a way that had him feeling like the oxygen was getting sucked out of the air and he couldn’t breathe anymore. So Harry helped him out, took some of the edge off, comforted him, and in the process reminded Zayn how to breathe again. And fuck it if they kissed and touched and fooled around, that was just part of it, right? Just one mate helping another mate out through tough times. Nothing special, nothing more.

He didn’t love Harry and Harry didn’t love him. So going by Louis’ rules of cheating, Zayn still hadn’t done anything wrong, no rule had been broken.

The buzzing sound starts up again, breaks him from his train of thought and takes him on a hunt to find the source of the noise. Zayn looks around carefully, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out it’s his phone vibrating on the nightstand, so stretching a little he reaches for it. The screen flashes in the dimly lit room, a photo of him kissing a smiling blonde on the cheek and Pez overlapping on both of their foreheads displays brightly on it. Zayn’s heart skips for a beat when he realizes it’s her, and for a moment, he second guesses picking up because he’s just not ready yet for round two with her, but taking a deep breath, he takes the call anyway.

“Pez?” he says, voice low and still hoarse from sleep.

“Hey. Did I wake you up?”

“Um, no. I was already up.”

“Oh, okay…Can we talk?”

“Yeah f’course.” Zayn springs up from the bed so quickly he fears he might have woken up Harry, so he runs to the balcony door and slips outside to talk with her without having to whisper.

“Zayn. I’m sorry,” is the first thing she says, her tone soft and apologetic, not exactly what he was expecting but still sweet.

“You’re?”

“Yeah. V called and explained everything. I’m so sooo sorry,” she repeats, and Zayn can’t help but sigh in relief. Relief that he still has her and hasn’t lost her forever like he thought he had.

“I know I went all mental on you last night, but you do know why it’s so hard for me, don’t you Zayn?” And Zayn does know, he more than knows. Because other times, most times, he’s the one doing the calling the next morning. He’s the one apologizing over and over again for coming down a girl’s throat in a bathroom stall the night before, or fucking another not even a week after she visited. He’s always the screw-up, not her.

He knows how hard it must be putting her trust in him, because for the most part Zayn’s a gamble, and even he knows that. A gamble of hoping for the best, but certainly expecting the worst. A gamble of putting everything on him and praying to get some of it back. A gamble she almost always loses, but, just like an addict, she keeps coming back.

“I do, I understand.” Zayn feels guilt rush coldly through him as his mouth dries and he takes a deep breath. He thinks the universe has a funny way of working, of making him pay his dues to her, because even when she’s the one apologizing, Zayn’s still the one that feels like complete shit.

“I love you so much. I won’t let you down again,” Zayn assures, hoping it’s the last time he has to make that promise.

They talk for a little while longer. Mainly just catching up about silly things here and there, and Zayn smiles thinking how much he likes talking to her like this, like they are old friends, easy and relaxed.

“And now we are writing some new songs, trying to see what we can come up with,” she says, yawning the last part.

“It’s really late there isn’t?

“Yeah, somewhat. Since I got back from over there, jetlag has been killing me,” she yawns again.

“You should go to sleep. Rest a little, yeah?”

“I really should, talk to you later. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Zayn hangs up and sets the phone on his lap, then reaches for his pocket to retrieve a pack of smokes and a lighter. He stays there for awhile, thinking and rethinking everything. The dream pops up in his head, the one about Safaa with the butterfly and the moth, and he plays it back in his head a few times trying to make sense out of it. But when he can’t, Zayn just brushes it off and continues smoking in silence.

Suddenly the balcony door opens, and Harry’s head pops out, “Everything ok?”

Zayn nods, twirling his phone in his hands and taking another drag of the cigarette.

“Was that her?” Harry asks as he closes the balcony door and takes a seat next to him.

“Yeah.”

“Did you work things out?”

“We did.”

“Mmm.” Harry looks down at his feet, studies them carefully, “So about last night-”

“ ‘S all right,” Zayn lets out the smoke.

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Zayn assures, expecting the conversation to end there so he can go back to smoking in silence. He leans back in the chair, shifting his gaze to the city as he watches the warm colors of the morning sun cast shadows over the skyscrapers, a contrast to what the moon had done the night before.

“Well maybe I could help you out from time to time, y’know, whenever you need it,” Harry blurts out.

Zayn eyes go back to Harry, and looking at him tentatively, he tries his best to see through him, see the true intentions behind the offer. Because Zayn knows Harry, he knows him well enough to be aware that he’s more cunning than he seems. That for all the good he does, some self-gain is sometimes involved. And it’s not that Harry’s selfish or self-absorbed, because he’s not (in fact he’s one of the most genuinely caring people Zayn knows to date), it’s more of the fact that Zayn knows that ‘what Harry wants, Harry gets’, no matter the stakes.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I enjoyed last night and you seemed to enjoy it too.  And I know it’s hard for you not to…with other girls…” Harry trails off. Zayn can see from a mile away what Harry’s implying, so he glares back at him for even bringing up the subject.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes taking the hint. “But truth be told, you know it’s not a lie. And, I dunno, maybe on nights where your hand is not enough, I could, you know, ‘assist’ you…or something.”

“Or something?” Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow and snorting at the same time.

“Um, yeah. I don’t know, better me than a random bird that could easily become front-page news for gossip magazines everywhere, don’t you think?”

Zayn studies him carefully, taking into consideration everything he just said. As crazy as it seems, Harry does kind of have a point. Some of his past slip ups have been well documented on the media and have been the cause of so many fall outs in his relationship, as well as scoldings from the PR team. Maybe taking him up on the offer on nights where Zayn feels that familiar itch for warm skin against his own is not that bad of an idea. Maybe it’s not as crazy as it sounds. And Harry’s a lad, and Zayn is not into lads, so this can’t possibly count as cheating, right? Because yeah, he may be a little attracted to Harry, but for fuck sake, who wouldn’t be. The boy is the personification of sex itself. Plus, Louis did say it doesn’t count if there isn’t love, so…

“Okay.” he says, before he thinks about it a little more and talks himself out of it.

“Really?” Harry questions, eyes big with surprise like he didn’t expect Zayn to actually say yes.

“Yeah.”

He can see a smile starting to grown on Harry’s face, mischievous and all, so Zayn feels the need to make one last clarification, set some unspoken rules. “This is just for when Pez’s not around. Nothing serious, okay Haz?”

Harry nods and extending his hand says, “Deal?”

Zayn roll his eyes, and can’t help but smile a little as he takes Harry’s hand and shakes it.

“Deal.”

*******

Zayn knows he can sometimes get obsessed with things. It’s not really serious, not OCD serious, but it’s something he has always done since he was little. Like for instance, when Zayn was six and saw _The Iron Giant_ for the first time. The tale of the 50-foot-tall robot imprinted in Zayn’s little head so rapidly that it was all he would talk about for weeks. It even got to the point where he cried and begged Trisha to buy him the movie when he had seen it on sale on one of their routine shopping trips. And when she finally did, Zayn then developed his own tradition of waking up early every Saturday just so he could have the TV all for himself to watch it as many times as he pleased without his parents begging him to watch something else or Doniya rolling her eyes at the movie from beginning to end.

But the obsessing didn’t stop quite there, it happened with people too.

As back as Zayn can recall, the first time he got hooked on someone was with Grace Fisher when he was in grade eleven. They weren’t friends, in fact, they kind of disliked each other. But one night, at one of those garage parties, something just clicked between them. And for Zayn, it had nothing to do with love. It had more to do with just how fascinating she was to him. Because, at first glance, Grace looked like an innocent girl with curly brown hair that went past just under her shoulders and the sweetest caramel eyes you could think of. But despite her misleading name and appearance, underneath she was a chaos of misery and loneliness all wrapped up in one, and Zayn found himself unable to get away from the walking contradiction.

Yet, slowly but surely, his little obsessions always tended to pass with time. No matter if they were about a giant alien robot or a troubled girl, they would inevitably fade into the vast sea that is his subconscious and eventually fall somewhat forgotten.

So Zayn doesn’t get that worried when a new one starts to surface. Doesn’t give it a second thought, even if this one is about Harry. Because, yeah, maybe he does like kissing Harry and the feeling of their bodies pressed together when they make-out and Harry’s on top, or how everything lights up like fireworks when he comes in Harry’s mouth after Harry gives him that look that drives him crazy. And maybe, just maybe, it is true that they have fooled around more often than what Zayn would like to admit, (almost three times a week for the past month to be exact). But that doesn’t mean anything, Zayn thinks, because it has happened before. Because he always gets over this obsessions, and Harry won’t be the exception. Because they have a deal.

*******

“How much longer?” Zayn hears Niall whine from the couch opposite to the one he’s lying on. Zayn takes a deep breath and doesn’t open his eyes thinking that maybe if they see him trying to nap they’ll go away and make noise elsewhere. They’ve all been in the bus for what seems like hours, so to some extent Zayn gets Niall’s desperation, but still, he is trying to sleep for crying out loud.

“Tom said we’re only twenty minutes away” Liam answers.

“You said that twenty minutes ago. I’m hungry” he whines again.

“I think there’s food in the fridge, make yourself something.” Liam replies gently as always.

“All that’s left is Harry’s health-detox shit. I want grease!”

“Hey, my food is not shit!” Harry yells from somewhere back in the bunks, walking soon after to the living area and lifting Zayn’s legs to place them on his lap so he fits on the couch with Zayn.

“Do any of you fucks not see me trying to sleep here or?” Zayn growls as he placed an arm over his eyes.

“Someone’s bitter” Louis says coming out of nowhere and sitting beside Liam and Niall on the other couch.

“Maybe he’s hungry too.”

“Yeah…for pussy.”

Zayn sits up in a split second and grabs one of the couch pillows, throwing it at Louis as hard as he can, but Louis ducks just in time and the pillow ends up hitting Niall’s face instead. “Hey!” Niall cried out grabbing another one to hit Louis with. It didn’t take long for the two of them to start a playful fight, inevitably sucking Liam into it too.

“You’re so weak, Niall!”

“I’m just hungry you cunt!”

“Stop it you two!” Liam giggles, not doing much to actually make them stop and even giving a few hits himself.

Zayn settles back to his original position pleased with himself and determined to get at least some sleep before they get to the venue, it’s going to be a long night and he knows it.

He somehow manages to drift a little back to sleep despite the noise few feet away, his thoughts unravel looser and fuzzier until he feels the presence of a hand, which is not his, on his inner thigh slowly getting higher and higher.

“No, Harry” Zayn warns sounding less serious than he really meant.

“I don’t know what y’talking about.” He can see a smirk starting to grown on Harry’s lips as his hand continues to its destination but his eyes never leave the wrestling match happening just a few feet away from them.

“Not here.”

“You’re gonna let me win?”

It was a new game they had developed, kind of like an unplanned side effect of their “deal”, where whoever turned on the other in public won a blowjob without having to give one back. Zayn wasn’t really into it at first, being as reserved as he is, but after Harry teased ‘C’mon, it’ll be fun’ and ‘I bet getting you hard will be so easy’, Zayn’s competitive side took over and it was game on from then on. And to a point, it became one of Zayn’s favorite things, the secretive aspect of it all. Because it was just between the two of them, no one even suspected, no one ever saw anything. Not the discreet whispers, or the wandering hands, not even the hungr way Harry looked at him after Zayn said an innuendo that was just meant for Harry. It was fun, more than fun, but seeing that Harry was too careless, not giving a single fuck who was around when he went in to peck Zayn’s lips, it was up to Zayn to be the one with better judgement out of the two and set the boundaries.

“They’re right there!”

“Isn’t that part of the game?” Harry replied looking back at him, the reckless smirk on his lips making Zayn feel something starting to spark like a lighter with not much gas left just below his stomach. Zayn lets a quiet groan out, but does little to move away as his eyes roll back at the sensation of Harry’s warm hands cupping him through his sweatpants. He grabs the couch to keep himself grounded and just as Zayn thinks he’s about to buck his hips, his eyes open for a split second, glancing to the still-going wrestling match on the other couch and instead are met by Louis’ wide eyed gaze that alternates between Zayn’s face and down where Harry’s hand is.

 _Fucking shit_ Zayn almost screams as pure panic runs through his body when he tries sits up once again, knocking Harry’s hand and earning a confused look from the younger boy.

When Zayn glimpses back to Louis in hopes of offering a look that says _I can explain_ more than anything else, the older boy’s eyes are no longer met with his. In fact, Louis is well into the playful fight, like he never even was out of it in the first place, making Zayn question if he ever really saw Louis eyeing them or if it was just a side effect of Zayn’s paranoiac personality.

Imagination or not, Zayn was done with testing just how much life was willing to let him get away with things. So he gets up and heads the bunkbeds side of the bus hoping to really get to sleep this time.

“Where you going?” he can hear Harry say from behind him.

 _Away from you_ Zayn thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud as he disappears into the bunkbeds.  

*******

It’s pure chaos backstage as it usually is before a show, and as Zayn has gotten accustomed to almost every tour night being since four years ago. Technics running around with masses of cables in their hands, Lou calling after Liam to _get in her bloody chair or else_ , and the roar of the crowd that’s so eager to see them for the next three hours. It’s all madness, Zayn thinks, to want to keep on doing this day in and day out despite the overall mayhem it is. But as he stands in a corner marveling at it as if it were one of Dali’s unusual paintings, he can’t help the small feeling of dread in his chest because he knows one day this will be no more. On day he’ll look back at this and miss the stress and frustration that came with the job, wanting nothing more than to go back. Zayn knows all of this because regardless of how out of hand it may get from time to time, remembering the scandal from a few months ago, it overall makes him feel alive more often than not.

“We’ll miss this someday” someone besides him says.

“Yeah” he replies instantly, but then takes a moment to unglue his eyes from the scene in front of him to see that it’s only Harry.

“It’s chaos, you know. But an organized one where everyone knows exactly what they should be doing. It’s amazing.”

“It really is. Wait. How did you know I was-“

“We’re not as different as you like to think we are.” A small smile forms on Harry’s lips and Zayn can’t deny his heart melts at the sight. But in a matter of seconds his thoughts drift back to what happen in the couch hours ago, so he feels the need to say something.

“Look Harry, what happened on the couch, you can’t do that. It’s one thing to do the game in other places, but they were right there and they could’ve seen something.”

“But they didn’t” Harry offers with a smirk.

“I know, but they could’ve and I don’t want them to know what we’re doing. It’s not like it means anything.”

“Okay.” Zayn sees Harry’s face fall a little, a flash of pain go through his eyes at Zayn’s somewhat harsh words.

“It’s not that” he goes to squeeze Harry’s hand. “I just don’t want them to start lecturing us about it, yeah?”

Harry shakes his head and answers ‘yeah’ a few times, apparently trying get his composure back.

“Lads, get in positions! The show’s about to start!” one of the tour directors screams over the music from the distance.

Harry looks at the time on his phone, eyes getting wide when he sees the hour it is. “Yeah, we should go.”

“We’re okay, yeah?” Zayn says as a final question.

“Always.”

*******

It was electricity tonight, Zayn could feel it pulsing through his body. Their energies are all at their fullest as they jump, dance, and sing all over the stage like it was the first time they had done it in a long time. And the crowd seemed to be infected with it too. The loud screams echoed across the stadium like rumbling thunder all around him, and it should be somewhat frightening to Zayn, to anyone, but it isn’t. In fact, Zayn couldn’t feel more alive than what he feels at this very moment, on stage, doing what he knows best by now, singing.

And don’t ask him at what point did it happen, because Zayn doesn’t know, but despite what he had said to Harry before the show about being more discreet around each other, they end up doing exactly the opposite of that on stage. But it’s not like they were full-on groping each other, because they certainly weren’t, however there were some questionable moments here and there Zayn can’t deny. Like when Liam read a sign that said **_Harry, who did you last kiss?_** and Harry’s eyes darted to Zayn so fast he could tell Harry did it unconsciously, but by the way the crowd roared, Zayn knows that little moment will probably end up as a gif somewhere or in one of those fanfictions about them he has heard Niall talk about on numerous occasions.

So yeah, maybe the thrill of this night got a little too much into his head, made him a little too reckless from what he usually is. Or maybe Zayn just wasn’t thinking right.

Either way Zayn can’t really do anything about it now or, more like, he won’t overthink it because it’s been a good night as it is and he won’t ruin it. So he just stands alone in a corner outside of the venue with his back to the wall as he smokes the second to last cigarette before getting his things and joining the others in one of the two buses. It’s cold outside, the autumn chill rolling in and making way for the winter, but he likes it. It’s nice to feel the cool breeze in his skin before getting into a crowded bus for more hours than what he would like.

“Can I have one?”

Zayn heart almost jumps out of his chest frightened by the sudden intruder. “Fucking shit Louis, can you not do that?”

“Do what?”

“Always come out of nowhere. You almost gave me a heart attack, mate.”

“Did I now?” Louis asks teasingly as he takes a place on the wall next to him. Zayn digs into his pockets and retrieves his pack with the lighter, takes out two and hands one to Louis.

Zayn watches him put the cigarette between his lips and light it before leaning back on the wall and continuing to smoke the one he had. “You’re playing with fire,” he hears Louis say as he hands the lighter back to Zayn.

“And why is that?”

Louis chuckles but Zayn hears no humor in it, “you know exactly why, don’t play dumb.”

This is exactly what Zayn didn’t want the others to find out, he knew they would start to nose-in like this was even there problem,  “Everything is ok, Lou. We’re just playing around. A stupid game.”

“And what a dangerous game to play, mate. Listen, Harry…he’s something special and complicated. It may look like he can be casual about things, and maybe with strangers he can, but with people he knows… it can go to shit.”

Zayn thinks back to the beginning, to when Louis and Harry were really close. Back then they were all still just starting to really get to know each other, but Harry and Louis somehow managed to be the first ones to click. From there on, they were all over each other all the time in a way that at some point it didn’t seem friendly anymore. Heck, Zayn still remembers that night he swears he heard Harry moan Louis name a few times. However, not Liam, Niall or Zayn dared to directly address it, eventually becoming a secret they all kept without ever agreeing to do so. It stayed like that for quite some time until one day it fell apart. Maybe it was the fact that the fans had caught on about what was going on, or maybe that Louis' relationship with Eleanor got more serious, but one day it just stopped.

“S’not like that. I have Pez, he knows that.”

Louis takes a deep drag and holds it in for a few seconds before letting the smoke out lazily,  “I won’t get involved with whatever the two of you are doing, but do know this, nothing is ever simple when it comes to Harry.”

Before Zayn can say anything further, Louis drops what is left of the cigarette on the ground, stumps on it, and gets on his way back to the buses a matter of seconds.

“It won’t go to shit” Zayn utters, speaking now to Louis back.

“Lets hope that, for your sake…and his.”

And with that Zayn is left alone once again to his thoughts, wondering what really happened between Louis and Harry all those years ago.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Good? Bad? Please leave a comment here or head on to my [Tumblr ](http://out-intheworld.tumblr.com/) and talk to me there, I would love to see what you have to say!


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